


Dreaming of Heaven, Just Beyond Hell

by kore_rising



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-11
Updated: 2011-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kore_rising/pseuds/kore_rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You say you're willing to die for love but you know nothing about dying and you know nothing about love!" Hector, <em>Troy (2004)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of Heaven, Just Beyond Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Dreaming of Heaven, Just Beyond Hell  
> Rating: PG-15/T for sexual contact and a smidgen of voyeurism.  
> Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur  
> Notes/Warnings: For [this](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/12989.html?thread=29573565#t29573565) prompt at[](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[ **inception_kink**](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/) : "You say you're willing to die for love but you know nothing about dying and you know nothing about love!" Hector, _Troy (2004)_  
>  Cobb says this to Arthur.
> 
> And also slightly [this](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/756.html?thread=1765876#t1765876) one: It comes out that Arthur and Ariadne are dating, or at least sleeping together, and Cobb doesn't know who he should be more protective over.
> 
> The characters, setting and story of _Inception_ are the property of Christopher Nolan and no cash is being made from this story.

~*~

To begin with Cobb thinks that it's Ariadne who he's most worried for.  Women and dreams, the whole problem with them is that they seem to be creatures made of fancies, and that makes them a potent, dangerous combination. _Which is ridiculous_ , he tells himself sternly. If there is a less romantic or fanciful woman than Ariadne in the whole of Paris he'd like to meet her. Miles chose well when he handed her over like a gift: She's stubborn, resourceful and brilliant, no two ways about her. Her tongue is sharp and her mind is doubly so. But she's curious and can't resist the play of shared dreams, the capacity to let lose the mind in a playground that does not respect the boundaries of the normal world and that, he decided early on, that would be her fatal flaw were she ever to continue.

He had honestly never intended to let her go as far as she did. Design is one thing, three dream levels another but Limbo? He could damn himself for the rest of his life for even considering that as a good idea. He shouldn't have done it, he should have gone alone...but he knows that if he had then this life he's living now would never have happened. Some days he does wake, lying still in the fresh promise of a new day, listening to Phillipa tell James that _Buggy Bear has tea, not coffee, and Pink Panda prefers juice_ and wonders over and over if he'd ever have been strong enough to let Mal go if he had been alone.

The answer, he knows, is no.

Ariadne is stronger than forged steel, tougher than old leather and prettier than April in Paris, perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Yet still, he feels a paternal urge towards her, transferred from Miles perhaps, who insisted she was kept safe. Perhaps he still feels he failed her there, and perhaps that's why he also feels a debt to Arthur, the man who has stuck by him through all his difficulties with an unswerving loyalty that he knows means he's whispered of as "Cobb's Terrier" and who, in the absence of his titular boss, took it upon himself to take care of the newcomer in their ranks. In honesty there was no one better; the cool slice of Arthur's mind meeting the chaotic force of Ariadne's was nothing short of a marvel. He doubts anyone could have made her into half the architect she is in as little time without slapping her down constantly, however Arthur in his infinite patience, his tidy manner and sharp habits, moulded her from a furious fire storm of ideas into a powerful river, one thought, one idea, one dream flowing through the security of his containing mind. She would turn to him constantly, waiting for his nod, his smile or his hand on her back as if knowing he was there would make her secure enough to push the limits of her creativity out ever further.

He should have seen it then really. He should have looked and noticed and goddamn **_paid attention_**. Best extractor there is? He couldn't even see two of his colleagues starting a romance under his nose. As if was a surprise to anyone but him. Ariadne is a pretty, pretty woman and Arthur, well...If he was the kind of man who dated his way around the world he'd be beating women off with a stout stick. He isn't, and perhaps that's why they caught him on the hop. To the best of his knowledge Arthur has always had discreet relationships well divorced from his working life. Nothing about him suggests he's a workplace lothario and he's never behaved that way in front of Dom either. But the two of them together, pretty woman meets handsome solicitous man, as Eames was wont to comment when three shots down and at the winking, loose tongued stage, that's just asking for Cupid to come along in his nappy and hit some bullseyes. "Besides", he'd carry on, "they were giving each other the glad eye from the day I met her. She barely looked at me when he was around." So Cobb would mutter something about that bruising Eames' ego, he'd laugh and that would be that.

Except it isn't. He finds himself watching them like a hawk, an embarrassed, almost cuckolded hawk in fact. He sees him bring her coffee and her answering smile. He sees his hand linger on her hip and he bites his lip in fury; _what do they think they're doing?_ He notes the lunches they take together, the times they walk in in the mornings looking bed rumpled and cheerful; he screws his hands into fists and swears to himself the day he sees her tidy his hair when she thinks they're alone in the workshop and wants to hurl firey insults when he smiles and kisses the back of her hand like the gentleman he is. He wonders how he'd feel if he ever saw them kiss properly, but the idea makes him want to vomit.

\---

It takes all of three months for the unthinkable to happen, and shockingly it doesn't happen in the workshop or even in the street outside.

He's walking James and Phillipa through the Bois de Boulogne, James trying to catch caterpillars with a tasty looking leaf and Phillipa pointing to clouds while they all try and guess what shape they are. He's looking down from what they've all decided is an ice cream cone when he sees Arthur in his dress down garb, strolling along in the distance with his arm slung territorially around a small brunette who resolves with sickening clarity into Ariadne. Her hair is loose, her scarf dropping from her neck and she's laughing, they're both laughing, one hand rises to Arthur's face and the next thing he knows they're kissing each other in broad daylight in the middle of the park. Arthur's arms curl around her, pulling her closer to him and her free hand settles on his back as if it has a perfect right to be there.

He's thunderstruck for a long moment, the world slows down and bleeds into silver nitrate shadows. It's only broken  by Phillipa saying "A castle, what do you think daddy? Daddy? Are you OK?" His skin jumps when she pats his hand, and _oh god he'd forgotten his kids_. The guilt is overwhelming, but it's nothing to the hot sickness when James calls "Uncle Arthur!" and sets off at a run before he can stop him, the word **_don't_** dying on his lips.

Arthur turns but doesn't let go of Ariadne until James stumbles into his knees when he stoops, picking up the small blond boy with an easy affection that he rarely shows in his other life. James twists, planting a wet kiss on Ariadne who pets his curls and for a minute, a tiny fraction of time, he sees the probable future; them and their child laughing in the park while the sun shines in golden blessing and he stands there, the lonely widower who walked back from the shores of death, watching them with a hunger that feels obscene.

James points back to his family, waves and Dom sees Arthur put him down, letting himself be led back to where they're waiting. Ariadne tucks easily into his side as they walk, there's something fluid about the grace with which they fit and for the first time he lets himself ask the question he's barely dared to think, let alone voice: _"Who do I want to protect most? Her for being my charge? Or him for being my most loyal friend? Who would I hurt? Who would I side with? Who's the one who I need more?"_ He wants to smack Arthur for abusing the trust he put in him to take care of her and perverting it into something so base. But, he realises, the jealous worm that gnaws him has a name and it is _Ariadne_ ; for taking what he had, for supplanting him and making Arthur give his loyalty to her simply because she fucks him. And who will pick up the pieces when it all falls apart? Who will still be there with his open hands and half empty house? That's right, tragic Dom Cobb. He'll be the one who puts Arthur back together when she's wiped her sweet little feet on his soul; he'll be the one with the strong shoulders and wise counsel when Arthur cries that she's gone and left him alone to grieve his cold bed.

The minute the thought is through him he wants to rip it away. This isn't right. They're his friends. Their happiness should be his, damn how they came about it. He always knew Ariadne was his to protect, but now he realises Arthur is one of those he would jump in front of a bullet for, real or dreamt. It strikes him like a slap, since Arthur neither wants nor needs his aid and coming between them is the last thing he wants, he decides firmly. 

He watches them come closer, wreathed in happiness and tries to smile. They're young and just learning what the world has in store for them, the pain and difficulty so far away from their serene glow that it seems not to exist. He was that happy once, wasn't he? The jealous worm twists in the open rose of his heart and he hears a voice deep within tell him in a whisper that _it isn't fair_.

\---

He invites them, both of them, to Aspen for Christmas.

James and Phillipa have insisted they want snow, a white Christmas like the ones they've seen on TV, full of sleighing and log fires and snow men, and in the flush of his indulgent fatherhood, newly recovered in his return, he submits. The cabin in the mountains is spacious, big enough for them all to fit without crowding, and when they arrive on the freezing day before Christmas Eve it's to find the owner has decorated with a huge tree and swags of greenery woven with blood bright ribbons. The children are delighted to have Arthur along since he's known them since the day they both first drew breath, as much a constant in their lives as their parents are (were, he corrects, the ache of Mal's absence still too raw to touch too hard). If James takes to Ariadne in a way that's endearing to see, much more so than Philipa who is still wary, perhaps thinking any woman in her life will leave suddenly and without warning, then that's a double blessing. It is.

To their credit, Arthur and Ariadne confine any romantic activity largely to their room. They embrace and hold hands, but never kiss openly in front of him and if they're having sex he never hears them. They must be though he thinks, lying awake as the snow drifts down in the pale night, they're sharing a bed and they're quietly crazy about each other, even he can see that. _Are they in love?_ He asks the ceiling silently, _could they be? How can they know what that means, to be so hopelessly lost inside another person that you start to lose yourself until they're behind every breath you draw, every thought inside your head?_ Mal shimmers in his memory, not the angry shade but the woman who beguiled him with her smile and her blue eyes, who took him to the edge of what his mind could withstand, who laid down and died for him with perfect trust. Is that what this is? _How can it be?_

\---

The night after Christmas everyone retires early. The kids are exhausted from a long day in the snow, snow ball fights being the childhood equivalent of a triathlon apparently, with the excitement of their gifts compounding the overtired and black eyed sleepiness they fall into by the fire. He's equally exhausted, the strain of being the doting father who will do anything playing on him hard that day, so when he gathers himself up at eight o'clock and stumbles to bed it's to sympathetic looks from both Arthur and Ariadne. He leaves them in a puppyish sprawl of limbs, her front pressed to his, head tucked under his chin while he idly sorts her curls in his fingers, gazing at the fire as if it's enough just to be there, together. He's never seen Arthur so relaxed nor Ariadne so quiet. They don't talk, they simply breathe together, the silence soft as the snow outside. The jealous worm bites, but he refuses to feel it; he wishes them well and tries to let it go.

\---

He'll never be sure what wakes him. One minute he's floating in dark sleep, the next lying in the dim light, listening to the house settle and creak around him. When he rises from his bed and shuffles across the room, out of the door and down the hall in it's in the half conscious meander of the sleepwalker. The world feels gentle and dream tinted, the entire place smothered in the blanket of peaceful rest and being awake in it feels somehow like slipping into another land.

He carefully checks on James then Phillipa, both sleeping with a delicate innocence as they tumble through their dreams. He kisses each smooth cheek, hoping the world will leave them be for as long as it can before it teaches them more about pain and loss. The moonlight makes fine shadows of their lashes fall on their cheeks, James' curls are dishevelled as he mutters and turns over while Phillipa sprawls across her bed like an angel collapsed in a cloud. Love swells in his chest hot and hard, the pain of it wonderful as he realises they're together now and nothing can separate them again. His children, so rare and infinitely precious. There's nothing he wouldn't give to protect them, he swears fiercely as he opens the door and slips away; _no thing_. 

Outside he corridor is dark, no lamps are burning in any of the rooms, but as he pads towards the staircase he can see a shard of paler gloom breaking the dark. As he gets closer the reason becomes clear. Arthur and Ariadne's door is ajar, and the light from their window is breaking through the crack. He fully intends to close it, reasoning it must have drifted open while they were sleeping but when Cobb draws level with the opening his eye catches movement in the room beyond, and he sees them.

(Later he'll tell himself he never meant to look. That it was an accident , his mind was sleepy and confused , he didn't react because it didn't feel real.)

They're lying across the bed. The sheets are back so everything is clear etched as day. Arthur is lying over Ariadne, his arms spread over hers so their hands are fisted together where they're flung wide of their bodies. His spine is bent in a supple curve so they're forehead to forehead, his hair brushing her face and her mouth over his. His hips are working in shallow thrusts and Cobb can see her splayed knee rising and falling as she rocks into him. Their skin shines dully in the moonlight and Ariadne's hair tumbles in dark curls over her pillow.

They're quiet, there's no more noise than the air entering and leaving their lungs, and for a minute he can't make sense of it, it doesn't seem anything like he might have imagined them to be together, until their kiss breaks and he hears Ariadne exhale _"I love you"_ against Arthur's face. Their eyes are wide and fixed on each other. He sees Arthur smile, the devastating, heart shattering smile of a man lost, and reply, _"I love you. I love you so much. I want to..."_ Ariadne's body rises harder with a tiny sound of pleasure escaping her lips, _"...love you all my life."_

The words tremble in the air. She's looking at him like he's the still point in the turning world until he reclaims her mouth with a soft moan that sees to shake them both. And him; _oh god, what's he doing? He's watching them make love; He's standing in the shadows like some sick pervert watching two people..._ He jerks back, shame hot and sick to his core, and flees as quickly and quietly as he can, trying not to think about what he's seen and heard.

\---

Arthur comes into the dark kitchen maybe forty five minutes later.

Cobb is sitting at the table, toying with a glass of iced water. He's been sitting still, watching the shadows of the trees falling on the snow, thinking, brooding on his friends and trying to scrub the visual of them both naked from his head.  
"Hey," He hears Arthur say, the press of his bare feet on the boards soft as a cat's, making him jump. "Couldn't sleep?"  
"No," he replies quietly, listening as the refrigerator opens, spilling yellow light over Arthur's face as he pulls out two bottles. "You?"  
"We're both thirsty." Cobb bites his tongue. Glasses chink onto the work surface followed by the tinkle of ice being dropped into each one.  
"So," he plunges on, "how are you getting on?"

Arthur pauses. He can hear the hesitation as he stops moving for a beat. "We're fine. Very good." The seals crackle open with a pair of sharp snaps. Suddenly Cobb feels reckless. He's got to know what he's up against, how bad the hurt will be when the day comes.  
"Are you in love with her?" The question lands like a grenade, blowing up a wall of silence. He can almost feel Arthur staring at him in the gloom, his dark adapted eyes picking up a glimmer from the moonlight reflecting on his irises and the faint grey of his t shirt and sweat pants against the dark wood of the cabinets.

"Yes." He replies eventually.  
"How in love?" Cobb hears himself suddenly demand like an angry father. "Are you going to marry her? Have kids?" His glass thunks on the table. Arthur is silent and unmoving. "Well?" He snaps.  
"You have no right..." Arthur all but growls  
"I have every right! You work with me! You're my friend! How much do you love her?" His voice rises.  
"I would die for her." He replies simply and without hesitating.  
"You? You'd give up your life for her?" Cobb spits, the jealousy, the fear, the infantalism of such a ridiculous, poetic line from _Arthur_ of all people scalding him to the bone.

"You would, would you? Are you just talking dreams or reality as well? What about her? Would she do that for you?" The words come out in a torrent, too fast for him to stop they're so sudden. _What does Arthur, a man who's never had a relationship longer than a few months know? Or Ariadne for that matter, barely out of her plaits and childhood bedroom? What the fuck?_   It kicks out of him faster than a punch:

"So, you say you're willing to die for love, but you know nothing about dying and you know nothing about love!"

The words rise up, hitting the air and displacing everything like a huge body hitting a deep pool. His heart is beating furiously from his adrenaline and righteous fury, yet as the echo dies it's Arthur he can hear breathing. Short, furious, abbreviated puffs that can only mean he's reigning himself in, trying not to explode, and suddenly Cobb wonders if he's gone too far. "Look I," he starts, only for Arthur's voice to come low and heavy from the dark and cut him off.

"Mal dying did not give you the monopoly on knowing what it means either."

The blow hits home. Cobb feels his jaw drop slightly, a stutter of rebuttals trying to clear his brain: _How could you! What do you mean? How dare you bring Mal and I into this?_ But Arthur doesn't give him a chance. _  
_  
"I love her. I would cut out my heart and give it to her if she needed it. But above all, I would live quietly for her. I'd give up what we do tomorrow if she asked. And before you ask, she would do the same." He pauses, inhaling sharply, and Cobb can tell his next words come through gritted teeth. "So don't presume to tell me what I do and do not know about loving someone. Don't you ever."

"Arthur?"

Ariadne's sudden voice is deliberately soft. _How long has she been there?_ Cobb jerks towards her, seeing the white glow of the oversized shirt she's wearing marred by the inky spill of her hair. "Is everything OK?" She crosses the room to Arthur, hands coming out as he reaches for her. She smells of sex, the salty thick mix of her and Arthur washing over Cobb as she passes him, a base, animal scent that leaks into the air like a shout.

"Everything's fine." He heard Arthur drop a kiss on her head. "Right Dom?" He adds sharply.  
"Arthur, listen,"  
"You've said enough for one night." He retorts swiftly, scooping up both glasses and leaving the room as quietly as he came. Ariadne follows, but pauses in the doorway for a minute, turning back to Cobb.

"We never doubted you. When you took us into danger, we stayed with you. We understood you did that for love. Why can't you believe we might feel the same about this?"  
"You're so..." He hesitates, "young." It hangs lamely in the air between them.

She sighs. "Too young to know what it means to be a lover? You patronising son of a bitch," the words sound tired. "I don't need someone to complete me. I don't want to Arthur to mend me where I'm broken. I don't require that he protects or defends me.  That he can do some or all of those things for me and me for him is only a tiny part of who we are. That together we're more than the sum of ourselves is what our relationship means. We're more together than you could ever see or know. We don't need you to understand that, but it would be nice if you could try."

She stops, arms folded as she stares at him through the gloom. When he doesn't reply she sighs again, and her footsteps pad away, the stairs creaking as she climbs them, then their door closes with a muffled click.

In the silence of the kitchen a clock ticks, the refrigerator hums and the ice maker clicks over and over as it works. Cobb sat alone, listening to all of it, but louder still was the realisation: _Has he really just accused his closest colleague of being an immature, self delusional fool_?

\---

When he wakes in the morning it's to a silent house.

James, Phillipa and Arthur and Ariadne's beds are made; downstairs the remains of breakfast's dishes are soaking in the sink while all their coats and boots missing from the hall closet. He had half expected to find the couple gone, so seeing their car parked in the driveway is a faint relief.  He rushes a snack, dresses and follows their prints in the snow, trekking up hill to a clearing where he finds a pitched snowball battle in progress. Phillipa and Ariadne have James and Arthur cornered by a stand of trees, snow is flying everywhere and everyone is laughing, as if getting pelted with missiles is the funniest thing ever to happen to any of them. He stops amid the trees for a minute and watches as Arthur hits Ariadne's chest, Phillipa catches him on the shoulder then James abandons subtlety and makes a run to stuff snow down her jacket. They are a happy shout of colour and life in a dark and light world. They seem carefree and unburdened, even if their shrieks and shouts are breathless as they threaten each other.

Suddenly Ariadne makes a dive at Arthur, tumbling him into the soft ground. He tries to double up, but Phillipa piles over Ariadne with a whoop, her blonde hair damp and hanging in soft ringlets and James, forgetting his loyalties, pounces over her, leaving Arthur stranded and helpless as they all giggle at his predicament. " _Gotcha_ ," Ariadne cheers, " _Gotcha_ and _gonna keep ya_."   
"I submit. You win." He capitulates, then to Cobb's utter surprise he lifts his head and kisses her, a full blown embrace, not a tiny peck, all while James and Phillipa look on curiously. They don't shriek or yell in disgust like he's seen other children do, they simply observe until Arthur lets her go so he can see her smile.

"Are you in love?" Phillipa's voice suddenly pipes over everything. Cobb is starting towards them with every intention of stopping such nosy questions when he hears Ariadne answer.   
"Yes, I think so." She smiles at the prone Arthur again who corrects.  
"Yes, Pippa. We are."

"Are you going to get married?" Her blue eyes fix on Arthur.  
"We might. Would you like to get married?" He half frowns at Ariadne, who rolls her eyes.  
"Is that a proposal?"  
"Depends on the answer." Ariadne pecks him on the mouth to wipe the grin away.

"And have kids?"  
"We'd like to." Arthur says cheerfully. "Are you desperate for a sort of cousin?" Phillipa tilts her head on one side and her mouth turns down.  
"What will you do if Ari..." She swallows sharply, "...if you have kids and she..."

Ariadne rolls up suddenly, scooting James gently to the floor and letting Arthur straighten up at the same time. To Cobb's shock, Arthur is the one who takes Phillipa's arms and speaks. "Pippa, if that happened I would do just what your dad did. I would do everything I could to stay with my family." He looks up at Ariadne, who nods and smooths Phillipa's rumpled locks. "Nothing would stop me from being with them."  
"Even if you had to go away?" Her voice is tiny.  
"Even if I had to leave to keep them safe. I would find a way back. Just like your dad."

Phillipa's chin wobbles, then she bursts into tears, turning and flinging herself around Ariadne. "Please don't die." She sobs. "Please don't. Don't go away." Cobb freezes, his daughter is crying and he should go and comfort her, but he can't imagine what in the world he could say.  Ariadne looks startled, but she speaks calmly. "I can't promise that. No one can. But I'll do my best to stay around." Her hands stroke Phillipa's back as Arthur watches. "I know you miss your mommy and I am so sorry she isn't here. She loved you very much, and so does your dad."

Phillipa hiccoughs against Ariadne's legs. "Did they love each other?" Cobb feels the breath catch in his throat. Phillipa hasn't asked about Mal since after he left, a silence that had always worried him but that he never knew how to break.

Ariadne looks sharply at Arthur, who hesitates, then uncurls Phillipa from Ariadne and sits her on his knees. He fishes a handkerchief from his jacket and wipes her face carefully. His smile is almost melancholy when he says; "Yes, very much."   
"Like you love Ariadne?" Arthur peers up at the petite woman standing in the snow in front of him. Is he thinking of Limbo, Cobb wonders, or the shade of Mal, or some other time and place they shared? Or is it not them he's thinking of at all?

"I think so." Arthur says softly to Phillipa. "We love each other very much too. We want to make each other laugh, keep each other safe, look after each other when we're sick and live in the same apartment so we can spend time together."  
"Did mommy and dad do that?"  
"Yes." Arthur is firm.  
"Were they happy like you are?"  
"Yes. What happened to your mommy didn't happen because she didn't love you or your dad." Phillipa sniffs, her eyes red and Arthur's handkerchief clutched in one hand as she nods. "You can ask your dad about this, you know that?"   
"It makes him sad."

Cobb winces.

"Losing someone you love makes you sad. But eventually remembering them makes it less sad and reminds you how happy you were to have them while they were alive." Arthur regards her steadily. Phillipa nods again. "He doesn't want you not to talk about your mommy because it would upset him, OK? He loves you and wants you to be happy."  He sounds so reassuring even James crowds into him and suddenly he's hung about with Cobb's children. "OK guys," He pats both small backs, "You're OK. Do you want to build a snow man or get some hot chocolate?"  
"Will Ari make it?" James turns big eyes on the woman in question, and Cobb hardly blames him. Ariadne's hot chocolate is less a drink and more a dessert in a cup, brimming with cream and candies.   
"This close to breakfast?" She asks and James nods with a cherubic smile. But as she's about to assent he catches sight of Dom and cheers "Daddy!" Leaping out of Arthur's lap to dash across the snow as everyone turns to face him. This is the moment he's been dreading. _Surely they'll stay civil in front of the kids?_

He plasters on a smile and swings James up, kissing his cheek noisily but all the while watching the others. Arthur glances at Ariadne, who shakes her head, then takes Phillpa's hand. "Shall we make a start on the snowman? Then hot chocolate?" Phillipa gets up eagerly and is soon happily helping to roll a ball of snow. James wriggles out of his father's grasp to join them and that leaves him, plodding through the snow to where Arthur is dusting himself down, gaze fixed firmly on Ariadne.

"Hey." Cobb starts awkwardly. "Thanks for taking the kids out."  
"I figured you'd want to sleep." Arthur's eyes don't budge. Ariadne glances at him and gives him a small, worried smile, flicking her eyes over Cobb then away again.  
"Yeah. About last night," he starts awkwardly. _God, it sounds like he's trying to ditch a hookup, not apologise_. "I wasn't thinking."  
"No, you weren't." Arthur doesn't waver. "You measured us by your standards and found us wanting. You had no right. If and how we love each other is our business." His hands fist by his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking. __

_This is useless, it's not working_. Cobb changes tack. "I heard what you said to the kids." Arthur doesn't respond. "They never ask about Mal any more, you know? I was afraid they were forgetting her." Out of the corner of his eye he sees the other man turning towards him slightly.  
"They won't. They have questions. You need to let them ask." The last word is razor tipped. "She wasn't just your wife. Other people loved and needed her, including them." Silence sits over them for a long moment. The snowman is now three balls balanced in a pyramid, Ariadne's supervision making it rise like a skyscraper. James holds out three pebbles for buttons while Phillipa arranges it's twig arms.

"I was wrong." Cobb hears himself admit. White steam clouds follow the words out. "About you both." Arthur says nothing. "And I'm sorry." The apology eventually plops over his lips and onto the ground, where his eyes are fixed.   
Arthur clears his throat and looks away. "I told them the truth, you know that? That is what we feel about each other. I don't need to die for her to know that I love her. And you knew Mal loved you long before she did that for you. You're a lucky son of a bitch, Dom."  
Cobb hears the younger man's honesty, the plain words far greater than any poetry or grand gesture, and it hurts but the ache is good nonetheless. It means he's alive and has been loved, is loved, even when he feels it's absence like a wound in his side. "Yeah. I am lucky. " He watches the kids running circles around their sculpture. "But you know one apology is all you're going to get, right?"  
To his immense relief, Arthur laughs. "Sure. Accepted." His stance relaxes slightly, and Cobb hopes that he's started to make amends.

He watches calmly as Ariadne runs up, lets Arthur pick her up and kiss her. James and Phillipa crowd their father's legs, pleading for their treat now. He is a man rich in love, he decides, a man with a lot to protect but also a man who knows when to trust: Trust that he will not be alone; trust that he will always have friendship and his family to sustain him.

A man who knows how to trust that others know love as well as he does.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> A/N's  
> The title comes from the idea in Dante's _Inferno_ that Hector, as a virtuous pagan, lived in Limbo which is located just beyond the river that borders Hell. Since he lived a good life but did not accept Christ his punishment, if could said to be one, is to live in the knowledge of Heaven but to always be disbarred from it.     
> 


End file.
